


Count to One Hundred

by LadyAllana



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Romance, Comfort, Fluff, Human Disaster Alexander Hamilton, Idiots in Love, M/M, Nonbinary Marquis de Lafayette, Other, Poor Thomas, Thunderstorms, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wedding Planning, and peggy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-08-21 05:52:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16570874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAllana/pseuds/LadyAllana
Summary: Alex doesn't know how he gets himself into these situations, but surely a business trip to France with his arch-nemesis won't be completely horrible?





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

> title from Jefferson quote: “When angry count to ten before you speak. If very angry, count to one hundred.”
> 
> The author knows nothing about how American politics or French weddings work. :')

  **Preface**

_“Be polite to all, but intimate with few.”_

_-Thomas Jefferson_

 

 

              Under any other circumstances, Alex can concede that this would have been one of the best experiences of his life. Though he has spoken French ever since he could talk, a great deal sooner than other babies if he might add, he has never actually set a foot in France before and certainly not in a French castle. The building itself is an art piece of its own even without the tapestries and the priceless paintings on the walls. The library is still largely intact as well which has been one of the reasons why he has agreed to come early and help with the last of the preparations as well as dealing with various government protocol.

 

              Alas, those are the only good things he can find to say about the situation as he is trapped in these intricately beautiful walls with two of the things he hates most in life.

 

  * Storms that threaten to tear down walls and drown him in his sleep
  * Secretary of State Thomas Fucking Jefferson



 

              See, Lafayette wanted the perfect wedding and, safe and warm in the White House, taking a couple of days off early for his sake had seemed like a nonstarter. Their friend deserved the perfect wedding of his dreams and those dreams certainly didn’t include the President of the United States dealing with a horde of French government officials at the eve of his grand day. The least they could do was to go a couple of days early, deal with the legal shit before they arrived with the other guests and Lafayette’s parents.

 

              The official ceremony had already taken place Stateside, but they all knew better than to point this out. So, Alex swallowed his pride, packed up his bags and his tux and took an economy class flight _-seriously Laf? - I’m so sorry mon ami it was very last minute. -How is that even possible you are the First Person?!-_ to France with his fellow secretary and arch nemesis in tow.

 

              And it practically went downhill from there.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Thomas has his own way of caring for and feeding Alex, it’s a bit aggressive.)

1.

 

              It had been a perfectly normal day in the White House. Of course, when he said normal, he meant dealing with absolute chaos running on two hours of sleep and twelve cups of coffee. You know, what he did every day.  

 

              And sure, the skies had turned an ugly grey soon after he had arrived in the office, Laurens had called in sick and he had a little computer mishap which nearly caused a breakdown but that was tame compared to what they normally had to deal with so again, it had been a perfectly normal if not better than average day.

 

              He was finally back in his office after a heated debate with Jefferson that eventually escalated into a very much so expected shouting match which had ended with the other man throwing a muffin at his face. The blueberry had left an ugly stain on his already wrinkled shirt, so he thought he might as well bring it with him back to his office to eat it, even if only not to give Jefferson the simple pleasure of an afternoon snack to go with his posh tea.

 

              In his opinion it went much better with the black as death coffee he was chugging down anyway. His newly found bliss with the butter and coconut cream was only short-lived though because as he was halfway done with it the door opened and Jefferson was roughly shoved inside. His eyes followed the crumbles on his mouth to the half-eaten pastry in his hand and back again and the look of outrage on his face turned into something akin to displeasure as if it was deeply offending for his muffin to be wasted on a man like Alexander Hamilton.

 

              So Alex welcomed him with a sneer and threw the rest of the delicious treat to the trash can, just to hear the indignant sound the other man made without taking his eyes off him.

 

              Jefferson answered him with an ugly scowl on his ugly, ugly face then turned his attention to the person who had shoved him inside and had managed to lock the door as they were caught up in a staring contest.

 

              Seriously, fuck his bouncing hair for obscuring Alex’s view.

 

              “I need your help _mes amis,_ it is only you who can give me the real wedding present I want.”

 

              Seeing Lafayette in their jeans and brown leather jacket next to Jefferson with his slacks and lilac dress shirt made a strange comparison, especially since all their friends and colleagues seemed to think they looked strangely alike. Alex justified the sudden need he felt to write a sonnet as his appreciation of the little nuances of life, never mind him never waiting long enough to appreciate the smaller details that made the picture meaningful as Eliza always reminded him.

 

              He didn’t want to remind Lafayette that he had already given both them and Washington their presents and he is sure whatever he has given Thomas Jefferson the Jerk TM has managed to triple it. But his friend was bouncing at the balls of their feet, a telltale sign that they were nervous and something he was almost sure they had picked up from Alex himself back in the day, and though they hadn’t been able to stop themselves from smiling whenever they were in the vicinity of the man they called George and the whole nation called the President, that smile looked strained on the sides and even Alex was worried for a second that it would give them unnecessary wrinkles on the wedding photos -it’s totally Laurens fault that he has learned to notice things such as this- so he forgot about Jefferson for a second. Mind you, he didn’t forget to poke his chest with a bony shoulder on his way, a move he has perfected over the years so it hit him on the nerve each time even with the unnecessary mass of abs the other man seemed to have and hugged Lafayette tight.

 

              His hugs were comforting, he was ready to fight about that anytime with anyone, even if he looked like a child on his tiptoes trying to reach most of his friends, it made a funny picture especially with someone as tall as Lafayette but it was warm, it was comforting and he knew the tension ebbed from their shoulders as it was suddenly easier to reach them.

 

              Lafayette hugged him back, wedding jitters still making them bounce on their feet so it kind of felt like Alex was on a ride in Disneyland.

 

              He was starting to feel a bit dizzy, to be honest.

 

              “Calm yourself, _mon ami._ Tell us what you need, and we shall deliver.”

 

              He wasn’t comfortable Jefferson making promises in his stead, even to one of his closest friends, but when he got out of Lafayette’s embrace and turned to look at him, he found Jefferson looking at them with a fond smile on his face, and Alex admitted that it looks truly eerie. He hadn't known that it was possible for Jefferson’s happiness to be not condescending, but they had spent many years together in France working together at the embassy and though the thought of Jefferson as anybody’s friend seemed unbelievable it was also something he witnessed anytime he saw the jerk together in a room with Lafayette or Madison.

 

              “I’ve just been briefed by the Chief of Staff that, as per ridiculous protocol, George and his entourage would need to be present at the castle to welcome the arriving parties. But with Maman in such condition, it is simply not possible for us to…”

 

              Alex loved Lafayette, almost as much as he loved Washington even, which meant a lot considering that the latter had taken him in, raised him up and had been his father for two decades all but in name. But half of his mind was occupied with the bill that he was trying to pass through the Congress – because even though it was  the president getting married the rest of his cabinet was  dreadfully busy that time of the year- and the other half was, quite shocking  as it is to admit to himself, was watching Jefferson as he paid his full attention to the fast ramblings of their friend.

 

              Granted, Alex had always admired Jefferson’s ability to keep up with him in a conversation, so he knew that compared to his rants this must have been a walk in the park for him. But there was always rage burning beneath the skin whenever Jefferson was paying this kind of attention to him, there was that little thin vein that was threatening the burst near his right eye and snide remarks that he always managed to throw in. He gave his full attention to him, yes, but it was never this. Jefferson was relaxed as he listened to Lafayette and kept nodding along, mumbling some reassurances in French that Alex didn’t need to translate – never with French nor Spanish he had needed to think to himself what the words have meant before- but didn’t really comprehend because his mind was too busy with the visuals. Finally, Jefferson gave Lafayette a small but warm smile, seriously where had he been hiding all these gestures and how Alex hadn’t seen them in all these years was beyond him, and clasped their shoulders.

 

              “Of course, we will take care of it for you. Don’t you worry.”

 

              Lafayette hugged them both quickly, relief evident all over their face and frame, before disappearing with secret service trailing behind them like a beeline in the White House corridors.  Only when Jefferson got out of his office with a simple “Later, Hamilton.” did Alex realize, that he had no idea what Jefferson had just signed him up for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Alex, what are we going to do with you?


	3. Chapter 3

**2.**

 

They meet up at the airport, because there is no way Alex will let Jefferson pick him up with his fancy town car, sitting in the back seat acting like driving is above him – which makes no sense as they are going abroad and someone actually needs to bring his car back to his house so that he doesn’t have to pay outlandish parking fees-.

 

He has forgone the crumbled suits for a pair of dark tight jean leggings -bought for him by Eliza some years ago- and a cozy sweater. His hair is in a bun at the nape of his neck and not in a tight high ponytail as he usually prefers for work.

 

There is no need to look responsible or serious for a long flight after all.

 

              What he doesn’t expect is Jefferson to think the same. Alex spots him at their counter, standing a head taller than almost everyone. He is wearing sweatpants for Christ’s sake! He has a well, admittedly good-looking dark purple sweatshirt on, but the sweatpants – he has never seen Jefferson in sweatpants before- are a smoky grey that basically leaves nothing to the imagination. He has a very expensive looking leather backpack slinging from his shoulder, passport at hand as he beckons Alex to join him in the check-in line.

 

              The lazy, easy smile on his face makes Alex want to erase it with a dirty punch but being held up by security for starting a fight in the airport would be the least of their worries once they have to face the President or God forbid, Lafayette.

 

              Jefferson spends the rest of their waiting time, - squished in a little booth with overpriced lame coffee- reading a novel of all things -is that Toni Morrison? - while Alex updates his blog on his phone. Normally anything he writes has to go through at least two speech writers and get Washington approved if the man has the time for it, but he figures this whole wedding fiasco gives him some room to work with.

 

              Jefferson sends the waitress with some coffee to the four secret service details who are so conveniently following them around by sitting at the very back of the room, he also sends them a half-assed sleazy nod, head of curls wobbling like a fucking Funko doll in what Alex swears to be a very unattractive way.

 

              He is halfway done on a piece berating the Senate – and the White House and well, himself… ok, he is getting a bit carried away there- about the insufficient funds for hurricane relief when Jefferson finally puts the book down on the table with a thud.

 

              He puts his hair in a ponytail – with a neon pink band? – as he watches Alex, foot methodically kicking the leg of the table, which makes Alex misspell Pennsylvania of all things as his forearms are firmly planted on the shaking table to achieve maximum thumb speed.

 

              “Are you about done?” Jefferson drawls, accent heavy like an actual stone on his tongue.  He looks tired, Alex notes, not-Alex tired tired perhaps but with his hair pulled back he looks younger, more somber. As if with the greatness of his hair and the look at me clothes add another layer of energy, without them he looks…different. There is a weird tinge at Alex’s heart, it’s the excess caffeine that’s what this is. The extra workload is obviously weighing on him, though the asshole would never admit it. It probably doesn’t help that they are not going to be able to take a Christmas break to spend with their families, so this – whatever this is- is the only break they are looking at until Easter.

 

              Why does it bother Alex that Jefferson looks tired? It’s probably the effect of the lack of blinding magenta anyways. This is a muted version of him, with his expressions, toned down, his big eyes and bigger lips are laid bare. It’s a bit disconcerting because Alex could have sworn that his lashes were the result of some ultra-luxurious expensive mascara but that was obviously not the case.

 

              Ok, why is Alex even thinking about his eyelashes anyway?

 

*

 

              “Let’s go then.”

 

              Jefferson buys them-them, the idiot orders and pays without asking Alex- two more cups to go as if they are not about to board a flight 7 hours long.

 

              Still, pride crumbled under Jefferson’s Jordans – Good God! - Alex accepts the paper cup, because well, caffeine. The cup is finished by the time they reach their gate, secret service trailing behind them in clothes Alex would never seem them in, this line of thought leads him to Jefferson’s choice of pants again, so he focuses on the taste of coffee and the slight burn on his tongue from trying to swallow too fast. Freudian… so very Freudian. The coffee keeps his mouth busy and gives him something to focus his gaze on other than…that. He neither needs to see nor hear Jefferson more than what is the bare necessary and thankfully the sentiments seem to be reciprocated.

 

              Alex goes in first, cutting Jefferson and barely touching the man.

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to fangirl a bit so writing a fic seemed like a good idea?


End file.
